


floating through the silence in my cold skin

by Drakojana



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakojana/pseuds/Drakojana
Summary: It's their little ritual. Whenever Anti comes back from a kill, Dark prepares a bath for him.





	floating through the silence in my cold skin

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea when I was taking a nice bath. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

When Anti steps into the house, he can already hear the water running in the bathroom.

The bag slides off his shoulder to the ground with a soft thump and a dull clatter. He gracelessly kicks off the worn-out, mud-covered sneakers and shimmies out of his favourite leather jacket. His footsteps are quiet and careful as he approaches the door. It's slightly ajar, inviting him to come inside.

Anti sighs, resting his hand against the wooden surface. He wants to relax, to have a quiet moment. Even if it's just a brief, fleeting moment. He finally pushes the door.

The air is sultry when it hits his face as he walks into the bathroom. His eyes immediately notice the other figure in the room. Dark hovers over the bathtub, making sure the water has the right temperature.

There is no "hello", "good evening" or even "hi". Dark knows Anti's home, and Anti knows he is aware of the fact. They move wordlessly, each doing their own thing at their respective pace.

So the man with dark green hair starts with undoing his belt. The clink of the buckle finally makes Dark turn around. Their eyes don't meet though, not until the article of clothing slides down Anti's lean legs and he steps out of it. It's just a second, the vibrant green clashing with deep amber. Then Dark tugs on the hem of the other's stained shirt and once Anti raises his arms obediently, he takes it off as well just to throw in in a corner.

They don't care about the clothes. There will be time to put them in the washing machine later. For now, Anti takes off the last two remaining garments - his socks and boxers. Once completely naked, Dark guides him into the bathtub.

It's their little ritual. Whenever Anti comes back from a kill, Dark prepares a bath for him.

The warmth of the water feels soothing against his cold skin. Anti takes pleasure in the sensation, closing his eyes and sinking into it. Then there's something on top of his head, and soon water soaks up his hair and drips down his face.

Although he's still wearing a suit, Dark starts washing Anti nonetheless. It's like he's been born in the formal clothing, only taking off the tie and rolling up the sleeves of the shirt from time to time. He doesn't mind getting his clothes wet, they can dry off later.

Anti feels the water touch every part of his body, washing off the dirt off his feet, the stains off his arms, the dust from his hair. Then it stops for a moment. He sits in the bath, the water already changing its colour and losing some of its transparency. It gets tainted with a rusty hue.

Finally, Dark presses the sponge against Anti's wet back. They don't need any fruit-scented fancy bubbles or fizzy bath bombs. Simple soap will do to wash the muck off.

The rough surface of the sponge moves on his back in circular motions and Anti almost groans with pleasure. Almost. He keeps quiet, he wants to. The silence remains unbroken, save for their breathing and some splashing noises each time Dark dips the sponge in the water.

When the clothed man takes Anti's hand into his own and raises it above the water level to wash his arm, he speaks up. It's just one sentence, yet it's enough to throw the balance of the moment off.

"You've been gone for longer than usual."

Anti doesn't allow his tongue to move, afraid it may betray him with a wrong word. Dark hums to himself in thought and he lets the sponge fall into the water as he touches the other's shoulders.

Anti doesn't want to let him know anything. But his muscles tense up under Dark's hands and when the man with the raven hair kneads his shoulder blades, he can feel it.

So Anti took his time just this once. Dark will soon know why. But for now, he keeps quiet about it. They both do, as Anti's second arm is massaged with the sponge and then dropped into the water.

After fifteen minutes Dark takes the bottle of shampoo and squirts a generous amount of the liquid into his hand. He starts by running his fingers through Anti's hair a couple of times, then moves to massaging the scalp. Sometimes he uses his nails to scratch at the skin, and sometimes he twirls the locks around his fingers.

No matter what Dark does, Anti loves it. He savours the sensations, afraid it may be the last time he gets to experience the gentle side of Dark. The other man rarely shows this part of him to anyone. In fact, Anti is pretty sure he's the only one who's seen it for so long.

Time doesn't matter when Dark runs his hands down his body and were they in any other place, Anti would've fallen apart under his touch long ago. But this is their special moment, and despite everything, there's nothing sexual about it. It's a sacred rite, that can only be conducted in silence. It has its unspoken rules and they don't dare break them.

Anti's heart clenches with anxiety when Dark reaches for the shower head. The sound of the water running fills the room again, indicating that their intimate time is almost over. Dark catches Anti's jaw with one hand and pushes his head backwards, his thumb brushing against his cheek for a while. He rinses off the green hair and Anti keeps his eyes shut.

He doesn't need to see how the other's eyes narrow, as he gathers his thoughts. Maybe it's childish, thinking he can escape the inevitable. But as long as he can, Anti clings onto the hope and wishes they could stay like this forever.

When Dark's done with that part, Anti lets his head fall forward, so the other can wrap a dark green towel around his head. Dark's bought it for him over a year ago, when Anti decided to dye his hair, so they wouldn't stain any other ones in the house. Dark squeezes the towel, so it can absorb most of the water dripping from the coloured locks.

The moment Dark lets it go, Anti gets up. The man with the raven hair grabs another piece of cloth, white this time. He dries the other's torso and then wraps it around his waist. Anti steps out of the tub, his now clean feet touching the soft bath rug. He rests his head against Dark's shoulder, sighing peacefully. A sudden wave of exhaustion sweeps over him and he can't find the strength to stand on his own.

Dark has to know now. But Anti's scared to say it, yet he must. He feebly clings onto the other's shirt, balling up his fists and creasing the fabric.

Dark is smarter than everybody takes him for, so he's the one to ask first.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

So much for the peaceful moment. Anti locks his jaw, he doesn't make a noise or a move. Maybe it's not late yet, maybe he can stop the time. But his heart is already beating up faster than before, and his eyes are wetter than they should be. If only he could pause the moment, he would blame it on the humid and hot air in the room.

But it's not the case. And he doesn't possess such powers. So he's left with just his fear.

That's how their relationship is. Dark plays the role of a commissioner, he finds the targets and instructs Anti. The green-haired man does all the killing. Each hit is swift, silent, without getting anyone's attention. And maybe if he's good enough, he'll get a reward at night.

Anti's never failed Dark. Not until now. And Dark wouldn't keep a failure. So Anti has to face the consequences, he cannot stall for time forever.

"I… didn't." His voice is raspy, he almost only mouths the words. Maybe if he's quiet enough, he can brush the topic off, Dark won't ask again.

But the silence is deafening. His own words feel heavy in his mind and Anti's torn between wishing he'd hear Dark's words finally, or never hear them. He awaits any sort of sound, the judgement that's about to pass and doom his soul. To what, he doesn't know. Loneliness? A punishment? Death, perhaps.

Anti expects to be pushed away. To be yelled at. To be thrown out of the house, out of Dark's life.

He doesn't expect a tight embrace. A tender kiss on the forehead. A gentle whisper against his ear.

"Don't worry, my darling. There's always the next time."

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song [**Cold Skin** by Seven Lions  & Echos](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0y-xhQXmEAk)


End file.
